Willard and the Evasion of His Confinement
by Xeno Night
Summary: It's been 2 weeks and Willard is still confined in his cell with Socrates for company. Will he ever escape? If he does. Where will he go? What will he do? I assure you this is NOT a romance
1. Dreams & Needles

Disclaimer: I do not own the rights to the character of Willard. This fan fiction story is for entertainment only.  
  
Note To Readers: I am aware of any minor grammatical errors in which you may see.   
  
___________________  
  
Willard's Evasion of His Confinement  
  
"Chapter One - Dreams & Needles"  
  
Willard lay there, still. Socrates burrowed down his sleeve. This is the second week of his constrainment. Never speaking. Never eating. Never moving when others are around. He lay there curled on his decrepit old hospital bed staring in a reverie at the wall. He dreamed of a world which excludes people and all their cruel ways. A world where he is free with only himself and Socrates. He hated everyone. Everyone but Socrates. He didn't need them. They took everything from him. He knew Socrates would come back to him. They will never find out. He will never let harm come to Socrates ever again. This dream of world excluding all people keeps him going but what continues his depression is the fact that his dreams are only a fools paradise. Never to come true. He is still alone with only one hope of escape. Socrates.   
  
The door which keeps him imprisoned from the outside hall squeaked and a woman walked inside. "It's time to change your bandages Mr. Stiles," a female nurse with brown hair and crooked teeth told Willard. He ignored her and continued to delve deeper into his reverie, staring at the wall. The closer the nurse came to him the closer he curled his body into a ball. With his knees held to his chest he continued his silence.  
  
Unwilling to cooperate with the nurse Willard stayed still with his back turned towards her. She rolled his dark blue uniform shirt up his back. This action reveals large black and blue bruises and hundreds of unhealed scratches. Two weeks he's been in physical pain with his scars and bruises, never showing any sign of healing. Willard, uncaring about his physical health, continued delving into his illusion. "Why aren't these healing?" the nurse tells herself while removing the old and worn bandages from his back and replacing them with fresh ones. Having finished replacing Willard's bandages the nurse softly rolled his shirt back down. "Poor guy," the nurse whispered to herself as she picked up the old bandages and walks out the door locking it behind her.  
  
He lay there for hours on his bed still curled in his little comforting ball with Socrates burrowed up his sleeve. Willard was waiting. Waiting for someone else to enter the room and bother him once more. None came. Knowing there be nothing and no one to hinder him in his reverie he slowly uncurled himself and sat upon his bed. He whispered, "Socrates." and a little white rat with pink ears and red eyes crawled out from his sleeve into his hands. The next few hours he sat there holding Socrates in his hands staring at the wall that stood in front of him continuing his reverie with a delirious smile upon his face.  
  
His smile faded once the cell door opened. Socrates crawled back up Willard's sleeve. It was his doctor. He didn't know her name for he refused to listen to the words that any person spoke to him. Willard stayed still once more. Never moving his eyes from the wall which helped him in staying locked in his dream. "It's time we try something," she says allowed while rolling a tray which carried needles filled with green solution into the room. Unconcerned with what was about to occur, as long as he was still able to be left alone to continue in his fools paradise, Willard sat there. The doctor pulled out a small light and shown it in Willard's eyes. "Your still not there," the doctor told herself.  
  
Willard doesn't flinch. The doctor pulled the tray holding the needles closer to the bed. "This won't hurt a bit," the doctor tells Willard despite the fact he will not answer. She began to roll his sleeve up but notices something moving about. The doctor jumped and Socrates runs out from inside his sleeve and under the hospital bed. Willard grabbed the doctor's arm, which was holding the needle containing the green liquid, and attempted to keep her from stabbing his arm. Lethargic from lack of nutriment, he failed his attempt and the doctor now had his arm locked down with hers. Having possessed control of him, the doctor succeeded in puncturing his veins and releasing the green liquid into his blood stream. The doctor stood back and watched as Willard's eyes began to close and his body fell sideways upon his bed. She walked towards him and grabbed his legs laying him fully onto the bed. "See you in the morning Mr. Stiles," she told his unconcious self.   
  
Socrates ran out from his hiding place under Willard's bed out the cell door. "We need to get some mouse traps!" the doctor yelled as she closed the thick metal door locking him in the cell once more. He was unconscious and alone with not even Socrates to greet him when he awakes. 


	2. Carvings

"Chapter Two - Carvings"  
  
It felt like eternity since he had awaken. His arms were numb and his eyes refused to open. Forcing his heavy eyelids to lift, he felt a woman's hand move across his face. He knew it was a woman's hand for her finger nails slid softly against his skin. The woman placed her hands upon his eyelids and she opened them herself, shining a bright light in front of his eyes. He blinked his eyes. "Your there," the woman said with a smile on her face. Willard just lay there. Confused. What had happend? Where was Socrates?  
  
"Do you remember who I am?" she smiled, "I'm Dr. Long. Can you stand up?" the doctor asked him. He opened his mouth beginning to say something but he was speechless and continued his silence. Willard stared at the doctor with an astute vision. All that had happend the day before was all a haze. The only thing on his mind was the whereabouts of Socrates. Willard attempted to stand up. His weak and lethargic limbs compelled his goal of standing. Dr. Long grabbed his arms and helped him stand. Once he had a good grasp of the doctor, he was on his feet.   
  
"I think it's about time you went for a walk. We'll go to the cafeteria. I'm sure your hungry," she smiled and directed Willard towards the door. He became excited at the thought of entering a place outside of his cell. A place which he has been locked in for over two weeks. Above all he hoped to find Socrates. Once Willard and the doctor had made it to the door, his eyes strained at the light staring down at him from the fluorescent lights hanging above. He covered his eyes with his free hand. The doctor continued holding his other arm which was helping him stand. "You'll get used to it," she told him.  
  
They made there way down the labyrinth of hallways. People stared and commented at the sight of his pale face and bloodshot eyes. "Hey, rat boy's out of his room!" a nurse with short brown hair wearing a blue nurse outfit yelled from another patient's room; where he was putting bandages on someone's injured leg. He couldn't think. He wanted revenge but couldn't bring himself to think. His own way of thought seemed to be controlled by the drugs. Standing there he looked back at the nurse. He was confused. "Come on Mr. Stiles. We're almost to the cafeteria," his doctor pulled on his arm. He followed his doctors lead.  
  
Willard and his doctor had entered the cafeteria. Only a few people were present. Three patients, two cooks, and five doctors. Dr. Long sat him in a chair at a table sitting alone in a dark corner of the room. "You stay here while I get you a tray," she walked away, leaving him alone. Carvings were in various places on the wall where he was sitting. There were scratches of animals, houses, initials of people who have come and gone from the hospital. What caught his eye was the carving of three mice. They appeared to be standing in a row. Large X's were carved in the places their eyes should have been. He raised his hand and slid his fingers over the curves of the carving. He whispered,"Socrates..."   
  
He jumped when his doctor had touched him on his shoulder. "Mr. Stiles, here's your food," sher placed the tray on the metal table in front of him. Unable to resist it, he grabbed his metal spoon and began to devour the food. The doctor sat down in the next chair and watched as he fulfilled his hunger. "Take it easy Mr. Stiles. You'll get a stomach ache like that," she said matte-of-factly. Willard slowed down and decided to stare at the carving on the wall. "I see your looking at the carvings. Some patients like to use the ends of their spoons to force imprints on the walls. It's a way of leaving their mark on the hospital. To let future patients know who has came and went from this place," she told him. He looked down at his spoon and noticed that the end had been filed down to the nub. "Don't get any ideas though. This is hospital property. I don't want to catch you carving on the walls now. I'm sure you can find another way of leaving your mark on this place one day Mr. Stiles. Not today though," Dr. Long said playfully.   
  
He looked at the carving once more then back at the doctor who was staring at something moving about in the hall. "I'll be right back Mr. Stiles," his doctor ran out into the hall. "It's that white rat again. Clever little devil isn't it?" Willard could hear Dr. Long talking from inside the cafeteria. Socrates ran into the cafeteria towards his table with Willard's doctor running far behind. She turned around to lecture the other hospital emplyees. "Go on. Don't just stand there. Help me catch it." While she was turned away Willard grasped Socrates in his hand and let him crawl up his sleeve out of sight. The doctor turned around and noticed the little white rat was gone. "Did you see where it went?" she asked him. "Oh nevermind. Lets get you back to your room," she grabbed his arm and they walked back to his room. He stared back at the carving on the wall. She kept pulling on his arm, forcing him to walk with her.  
  
On there way back to his cell he confronted the nurse once again. "Awww, rat boy has to go back to his room," the nurse satirized. "Oh, leave him alone. This has been a big day for Mr. Stiles. He needs his rest now," his doctor scolded the nurse and looked at Willard, "That's just Jim, he's a jokester." They reached his cell and Willard walked inside. He was confused of what had just happened. Dr. Long, still holding his arm, helped him sit down upon his bed. Looking up at his doctor he began to say something. He couldn't bring himself to express any words. He raised his hand towards her. "I...I.." he tried again. "I'll be back tomorrow," his doctor walked out the cell door, locking it behind her.   
  
Four hours had past and Willard could feel the drug, that had been controlling his way of thought all day, fading. His own thoughts that had been blocked by the drug's affects were slowly coming back to him. He recollected the events of the day. Socrates disappearing, the nurse taunting him, the carvings on the walls. He pulled out Socrates from up his sleeve and held him is his hands. A deviant look formed on his face. "Let's leave our mark," Willard stared Socrates in the eyes. 


	3. Blood & Flashbacks

"Chapter Three - Blood & Flashbacks"  
  
The next morning Willard awoke with a sharp pain shooting through his head. It felt like thousands of needles were being compressed all throughout his brain. He could feel the scratches and bruises all over his body ten times worse than before. He heard a squeak at the door. Socrates ran into a small crevice of his sheet and Dr. Long walked in. She saw Willard squinting his eyes trying to look at her but the pain was too excruciating. "You must be feeling the side effects. It's time for another dosage," his doctor rolled in the tray with the syringe's filled with green liquid.  
  
Willard moved his head from side to side beckoning her not to inject him with that drug again. He rolled over on his side with his back facing her and he curled into his comforting little ball. She stared at him with pity. "Oh, alright. I guess we can see how you do today without the drug. I'll be back in a few hours to see how your doing," his doctor rolled the tray out the door and she left.  
  
He lay there staring at the wall with Socrates burrowed in a small hole of his pillow. The sharp pain in his head slowly disappeared and he was able to open his eyes. He pulled Socrates out from his little niche in the pillow and held him in his hands. "Tear it up," willard placed the edge of the pillow up to Socrates' mouth. Socrates began to rip and tear the edge of the pillow with his sharp little teeth. The little white rat seemed to get carried away. Willard's hand was still holding the edge of the pillow and Socrates inadvertently bit his pointer finger leaving a small bite mark the size of a quarter. Willard pulled his hand away and impulsively placed his finger in his mouth and began to suck on the small trickles of blood which dripped from the wound. The blood touched his tongue leaving a bitter but sweet taste in his mouth. Willard stared at Socrates with a deranged smile. A small blood stain formed on the white sheets.  
  
The door opened and Dr. Long walked in. Socrates ran back into the little hole in his pillow. "Do you think you can go for a walk today Mr. Stiles?" she asked. Willard stared blankly at the doctor. She glanced at his bed and noticed the small blood stain. "What happened?" Dr. Long said in a concerned way. She grabbed Willard's arm and pulled him off his bed. He walked back into the corner of his room with a panicked look on his face. She glanced over the bed linens and walked towards him in the corner. Grabbing his arm they both walked out the door.   
  
"We need linen change in room 3-911," his doctor told a nurse holding an old woman's hand who was sitting in a hospital wheelchair. The nurse left the old woman's side. "Where are you going?" the senile woman shreaked. Willard stood there watching as the old woman continued to scream and spit up revolting mucus. She rocked back and forth, holding her arms in a cross. He imagined the old woman in the image of his own mother. This abhorrent flashback upset him. Unable to handle the strain of the woman's screams he held his hands up to his ears trying to drown out the blood curdling sound. He pulled on the ends of his black hair. In the back of his head he could hear his mother's voice. "Clark!" she would yell. "You hate me!"   
  
Still holding his head he told the voice,"N...no mother. I..I love you." Dr. Long watched him in his delirium and noticed the blood from his finger smear on his hair and face. She grabbed his arm and took hold of his hand. Holding his hand in hers she pulled out some bandages from her pocket and began to wrap one around his wound. "How could that have happend," she asked herself. She pulled on his arm trying to make him move further from the old woman's shrieks. He was afraid to move. His muscles tightened in his legs. He seemed to be in his own lurid world.   
  
Dr. Long, unknowing what was going through Willard's head, continued to try and make him move. He still refused to budge. The old woman continued to scream. The doctor ran off somewhere around the corner and a few seconds later she returned with a syringe filled with the green liquid in her hands. Tapping it with her finger she ran towards Willard and punctured his arm with the needle. His hands fell from his head and everything around him turned into a haze. Everything began to spin. His legs went limp. He lost his balance and fell backwards hitting the cold hospital floor. 


	4. Aphotic Room

"Chapter Four - Aphotic Room"  
  
It was dark. It was cold. It was damp. It was an unknown place where he feared the worse. Different from his other room. Where was he? Silence began to overtake him. No Socrates. No dreams. No...nothing. He lay propped up against a corner of the cold cement room. He lifted his hand up against the wall. Feeling the dampness, he slid it down towards the floor. Still he felt nothing but the dark. He yearned for even the slightest sliver of light to be seen. Still none could be found. For hours this continued. Silent, with only the dark dampness of the room to keep him company.  
  
Without warning, a large beam of light overtook the cave-like atmosphere. He covered his eyes with his hands. The brightness of the light made him feel as though it would make him go blind. He moved his feet trying to back away. The darkness had kept him too long. A shadow covered the light from entering the room just as it had opened. He lowered his hands from his face and tried to look up at who had entered. This person was holding something. Something box-shaped. He could hear a small squeak and scratching coming from inside the box shaped shadow. The shadowed person moved away from the door. He heard a loud click. He covered his ears and closed his eyes from the effect of the sound. It felt so loud against his ear drums. So many hours in silent darkness enhanced his senses a great deal. As he opened his eyes to the fluorescence of the light shining above him, it caused him to cover his eyes once more.   
  
"Mr. Stiles," he heard a voice say. "Open your eyes," he listened to the voice once more and knew it was his Dr. Long. He lifted his hand from his eyes and tried to adjust to the sudden change in surrounding. The walls were a blinding white. What had felt like cement was actually rugged tiles. What he saw before him caused him to squirm. On the floor in front of him, locked in a cage, was Socrates. He began to crawl up to the cage with all the strength he had. He almost made it till his doctor walked and stood right in front of the cage. Keeping him from Socrates. Willard backed away. He looked up at his doctor in dismay.  
  
"We found this little rodent hiding in your pillow," Dr. Long stared at him. Willard stared back. He began to open his mouth. He tried to say something but nothing would come out. The nervousness was just too much. She walked sideways away from the cage. Willard looked from the cage back to his doctor.  
  
"Go ahead. I know he's yours," she told him. He crawled closer to the cage and lifted the opening. After grabbing Socrates he slid himself back into his corner and held the little white rat in his hands up against his face. "Socrates" Willard whispered only loud enough so as Socrates could hear him. His doctor stood there and observed Willard's every move. How he held the little rat cupped between both his hands. How he caressed it's soft white fur. He sat there holding Socrates in an embrace for the longest time while the doctor watched.   
  
While lost in his ambience, his doctor walked up to him and knelt down. Knowing he wasn't paying any attention to her she pulled out a syringe filled with red liquid. She held it up in front of his face. He looked up. He slowly lowered Socrates. The little white rat crawled up his sleeve in hiding. He snapped out of his daze and stared panic stricken at the sight before him.  
  
"This is why you are in this place Mr. Stiles. Now, this will be the last time you will see your little friend here. I promise we will find a nice home for him…" her sentence was cut off when Jim, the nurse who had cruelly bantered Willard in the past, walked by the cell door and glanced inside.   
  
"There you are. I brought the straitjacket you asked for," he continued his way into the room, "...Oh! Rat boy must be in some big kind of trouble if you're giving him that," Jim looked down at the doctor who was holding the syringe with red liquid up to Willard's face threateningly. The doctor looked up at the nurse and sneered. "That will be quite enough. Just set it down over there by the door. We aren't quite sure whether we will be using it yet," his doctor snapped at the nurse. The nurse did as she said and left the room mumbling words of blasphemy under his breath.  
  
"Now..." his doctor looked back down at him. He was holding onto the walls behind him. Thoughts were running through his head. What was about to happen? Where would she take Socrates? He tried searching for anything to advocate his situation. No words came to him.  
  
She slowly lifted his arm and reached for Socrates. Pulling him out, the little white rat screeched. Socrates tried to break free but she kept a strong grip of him. Willard watched as she stuck the needle into Socrates' back. The little rat's wails filled the cold white room. They seemed to echo. It was an eerie sound. "Nooo!" Willard cried and reached for Dr. Long. 


	5. The Call Of Socrates

"Chapter Five - The Call Of Socrates"  
  
What had happend the day before he could not bare to think about. It was so awful. Deplorable. Guilt overcame him. He remembered what he had done to all of them. How he charred their small bodies after the murderous act he committed. The screams. The deathly screams. Despite his grief once again over Socrates, he tried to think. Think of a way to get him back. What could he do? She had taken him. Socrates being held by her. Oh the screams that the little white rat screamed. How could he be so blind? He thought the needle was meant for him......not Socrates. Why Socrates? He never did anything to her for such an act to be done towards him. The only friend he had. Subconsciously he knew...he would somehow...come back to him.  
  
As Willard stay locked in his room, Socrates was waking out of his own affliction. The bars that surrounded him were nothing. With all the strength he had he rised out of his haze and placed his little teeth to the bars. He could not succeed. He was too weak. The bar's were too thick. He began to squeal. Loud. Very loud. All of his kind in the large hospital was once awaken by the screams of little Socrates. All of his kind crawled out of their own hiding places and followed the sound. This wailing lasted for hours. The rats were coming. Slowly but surely they all heard his affliction. They were coming at last. The rats were coming.  
  
The hospital's staff could not hear as well the little rat's screams as Willard could. This excited him a great deal. He knew that Socrates was still alive. He guided his way through the aphotic room. The grooves of the tiles led him towards the door of his cold damp cell. Once he felt the indentation of the door he stopped. With both his hands somewhat glued to the door he placed his ears somewhat in the middle of the door. He could hear more clearly Socrates in his anguish. He could hear the many scratches of small feet running through the walls. He knew they were running for Socrates. Exultant. That was how Willard felt at that moment. A smile overcame his face. He knew the rats were coming. The rats were coming...  
  
He stayed sitting at the cell door's feet for the longest time. Listening for more. More....he didn't know exactly. Maybe....hoping the rats will somehow help Socrates. He knew they would. Tears ran down his face. Still smiling he seemed to drown in his own grief. "Socrates..." he screeched hoping that in some way the little rat could hear him. To let him know that he still cared for him.   
  
Footsteps could be heard coming nearer to the door. Willard payed no attention. He continued to listen for the rats. The locks were being removed from the door and the door was pushed open. Knocking him furthur into the room. He held himself up with both his hands. They clicked the light on and he covered his eyes from the sudden luminescence of the fluorescent light encaged in wire hanging from the ceiling.  
  
Who entered the door was Dr. Long. Two large men in blue nurses attire stood behind her with looks of enjoyment on their faces. As though they were hoping he would attempt something. The doctor held the straitjacket that the patronizing nurse had placed in the room the day before. "Your coming with us Mr. Stiles," she said sharply and motioned her hand in such a way the two nurses did as was she was implying. He backed away toward his corner of the room. He covered his head trying to shield himself from the two large men. They grabbed his arms and forcefully placed the straitjacket on him. He tried to break free but was then pushed towards the door. He could still hear the rats. He could still hear Socrates' cry. Once he was standing near the exit of his cell he saw a large brown rat scurry down the hall. He knew it was running towards whereever Socrates was being held. Willard smirked. 


	6. Torment & Murder

"Chapter Six - Torment & Murder"  
  
He staggered down the catacomb-like hallways. The two nurses kept a strong grasp on the straps of the straitjacket. They made their way towards a large room. A large metal structure stood thus in the middle of the room. Only one word could come to Willard's mind. Torture.  
  
"This technique is used for all formidable patients," Dr. Long smirked and continued, "What you did yesterday was awful." He lay on the thick steel bed. No sheets nor pillow to lay his head. It was cold. "This should make your mind right," she undid the straitjacket. His legs were strapped tightly to the cold metal bed. "After this you will never think of striking another person again. All for that rat. I really should..." she stopped talking and looked up. Who should walk in the room but that patronizing nurse, Jim. "I heard what you were about to do from the staff. This proceeder hasn't been done in decades. I wanted to watch," Jim smiled at the doctor and sat in a metal chair near the door.  
  
He was locked tightly to the metal structure with thick leather straps. A tray holding syringes filled with different coloured liquids stood beside her. She held with one hand his right arm while grasping a syringe filled with black liquid with the other. Stabbing his arm with the syringe he closed his eyes. It stung. He could feel his whole body turning cold. Feeling the drug racing through his blood stream, he screamed. A paroxysm of shaking overtook his body as she stuck him with yet another needle. This time the color of liquid contained in the syringe was translucent. Tears ran down his face as he screamed in torment. After injecting him with the strange coloured liquids she stood back and watched as the drugs took hold of him.  
  
Dr. Long stared in satisfaction the torture Willard was experiencing. A whole hour past and the affects faded. He stopped shaking and he lay there still awake. His eyes stayed closed for he was unable to lift them. He was so tired he could not move a muscle. "That was great," the nurse sitting in the chair stood up and clapped. This made the doctor smile and thank the nurse. "If you wouldn't mind go get that rat friend of his. I'm sure you know where it's being kept. I have a few things to do, so take it to my office next week." she told the Jim. He looked at her in dismay. "What do you want it for?" he asked. "I want to examine it. I want to know why it seems to communicate with him so well," she glanced over at the limp and slightly twitching Willard. The nurse nodded and left the room. "You two take him back to room 3-911," she told the two large nurses who were standing by as if they were gaurding the room.   
  
The two large nurses walked over to Willard and unstrapped his limp body from the metal structure. They grabbed his arms and began to drag him out of the room with his two feet sliding against the cold floor. Making their way back down the catacomb like hallways they made their way back to the main floor of the hospital where his original room was waiting. Although he could not open his eyes or move any part of his limp body he heard the nurses talking.  
  
"What do you think of this guy?" he heard the nurse holding his left arm say. The nurse holding his arm on the right replied. "I always thought the guy looked sad. What did he do in the first place to have to go through that? Man, I tell ya. I didn't even know they still did that treatment here. I thought this place was up to date." the nurse on the right shook his head. "You were there. Don't you remember?" the nurse on the left said. "Yeah, I do. But he didn't do anything. She enticed him. I think she gets a joy out of it. He didn't even grab her that hard. He only wanted her to give back that rat thing of his which she gave to him then decided to take it back." the right nurse replied. "I think we should turn her in. That was ultimately cruel what she did to the poor guy." the left nurse said while they made their way up some long dark stairs to the main floor. "What? And get fired? No, lets just let it be. I've had a hard enough time getting this job." the right nurse sighed. "I guess your right. Maybe the guy will fight back somehow. If he does. I don't want to be around when he does." the left nurse said sadly. The two finally made it to room 3-911 and placed Willard's limp body on his bed and locked the door behind them.  
  
Thoughts ran through his head while lying there on his soft but decrepit hospital bed. Thoughts of revenge. Thoughts of escape. Thoughts...that meant something deadly.  
  
Meanwhile Jim had made his way to the room in which Socrates was being held. He could hear little scratches coming from within the room. Every once in awhile he would hear a squeal. He thought it was only the little white rat so he opened the door. He spotted the cage and made his way towards it. The door suddenly shut as if by itself. He looked back and noticed a pile of rats had somehow closed the door with impact. A look of panic overtook his face. All of the rats little beady eyes stared all around him. They were everywhere around the room. The nurse and the rats stared back at each other for only a few seconds which seemed like an hour till one rat decided to attack. It jumped on the nurses neck and bit a large chunk of skin from his now bleeding neck. The rest of the rats followed this rats lead. He screamed in anguish. Blood splat around the room. Losing too much blood made him fall backward onto the floor. With his eyes still wide open he took his last breath. Blood poured from his mouth. Jim was dead. The rats dispersed and an eerie silence overtook the room and labyrinth of empty hallways surrounding it. 


	7. Evasion

"Chapter 7 - Evasion"  
  
Days went by with no sign of Jim. It was the end of the day and everyone had gone home. All the patients were locked away safely in their rooms. Dr. Long began to worry about the whereabouts of the nurse. She was worried that the nurse had taken the rat himself for reason's she didn't know. Deciding to look for herself, whether the rat was gone, she found the keys to the room which Socrates was hopefully, to her, still being kept. To allure the rat, incase it had escaped, she decided to fetch some food for it. Walking down the labyrinth of hallways she could faintly smell something nauseating in the air. She knew this smell too well. As a doctor she has experienced many deaths and their after affects. Before going any further she called security at a nearby phone.   
  
Once three men baring name tags and security outits had arrived they all covered their faces. "Gah, what is that?" one of the men with a name tag which read 'Gary' commented. "It's the smell of a decomposing body. I suggest you go check it out," Dr. Long handed the head of security the keys. They all walked further down the hallway. The nauseating smell became stronger. The head of security, who's name tag read Roy, unlocked the door and slowly opened it revealing a sight too aweful to describe. Dried blood staind the floor of the room. Laying in the middle of the room was the nurse. His body had slowly been rotting. His chest had sunken. The skin on his body looked damp with a detestable smell emanating from the putrescent corpse. It was an eerie sight to witness.  
  
Unwary the condition of the dead nurse, Dr. Long began to search the cage for Socrates. She pulled some cheese out of her pocket and slowly walked closer to the cage. The door which locked the cage had been bent open. Little Socrates was gone. She turned around and looked at the people of security. "Follow me," she continued "I know who did this." They looked at her in confusion. "Well, what about him?" Roy asked her. "I'll have the staff take care of it," she said as she walked back through the hallway. "I'll call the police," the third security man ran down a different direction through the labyrinth of hallways.  
  
They had finally made their way to room 3-911 where Willard, it seems, had been quite busy for the past few days. His muscles still ached from the torture he endured a few days ago. "Do you hear that?" Gary said suprisingly. The doctor almost tripped as a small rat ran through the little slit at the bottom of the door. "Open the door already," impatiently, Dr. Long handed Roy the key. Hesitantly he unlocked the door. Willard stood in a corner of the room looking down at the little white rat laying as if it were sleeping in the palm of his hands. It's little body moved as it respired slow breaths. Willard held him while slightly shaking. His long black hair covered his eyes. He gave a sharp look at the doctor. They stared in amazement at the rat infested room. "Look at all the rats!" Roy yelled. Willard looked up with an angry deranged expression on his face and replied with great solemnity, "Yes...look...at the rats." A great many rats had ran out the room running between Dr. Long, Roy, and Gary's feet. They all backed away from the cell door. "I'm getting out of here," the Roy said panicking. He slowly moved away from the door and began to somewhat jog down the hospital hallways towards the entrance of the insitution. "Just lock them in!" the doctor yelled after them. She panicked and left the door open. She ran after the security men.  
  
Willard slowly walked out of his now unlocked door, still holding the small white rat in his hands. The countless rats followed behind him. He walked towards the main hall. Dr. Long, Roy, and Gary had almost made it to the main exit when Willard arrived. They stopped and Dr. Long began to talk. "Mr. Stiles, just stay where you are," she said slowly. Gary slowly pulled out his gun and pointed it at Willard. "Son, listen to what she's telling you. Don't move..." He continued to walk closer towards them with the rats still following close behind. His eyes turned glassy. You could almost feel the anger when looking into his eyes. "You... Hurt... Socrates!" he said vehemently, sharply pointing to the doctor. Walking closer towards them they panicked. He had a slightly satisfied expression on his face. Delirious. Shaking uncontrollably, Gary shot a round off. It ricocheted off the wall hitting Willard's arm then killing a random rat running behind him. The bullet teared his uniform sleeve where blood was slowly being absorbed by the fabric. This didn't seem to phase him. With the main door too far for them to reach in time they ran into an emty room and closed the door hoping to find refuge from the innumerable rats. He layed Socrates on a table and grabbed the keys which number matched the room they had run into. After trapping the doctor and security men in the small cell room he threw the key in a nearby trash can. He picked Socrates back up and began to walk towards the main door of the hospital.   
  
Before exiting, he noticed the door which they kept patients belongings was standing open. He knew he coudn't leave in just his hospital uniform so he looked around to make sure no one was coming and he ran into the room. The countless rats followed and gathered in the room with him. Laying Socrates down on a table in the middle of the room, he looked around. Countless little boxes with names of patients filled the tall shelves of the room. The first box he noticed was his own which said in black typed ink "Stiles, Willard". Slowly he slid the box out of the shelf and placed it on the table next to Socrates. He sat in a chair which had been slid under the table. Opening the box revealed his father's red pocket knife. It was darkly crusted with Ben's blood. Slowly he slid the knife open. Tears ran down his cheek at the memory of what he did. He had to do it. He had to show Ben who was boss. At the sight of the knife he became angry...but satisfied. Placing the knife down beside Socrates' small body he looked once more into the box. His black leather wallet layed in a corner. It too was covered in dried blood. A small smile formed on his face and he opened the wallet. His license and two five dollar bills were left in the wallet's billfold. He stood back up and placed the wallet next to the knife.  
  
Looking around once more he noticed an old man's overcoat. On the inside neck of the coat was the name 'Jeffery'. It was black and slightly worn. Reminding him of his dead father's clothing he picked it up and slid his arms through the sleeves. It was a perfect fit. He slightly smirked. Just under where the over coat was hanging were a pair of shiny black men's dress shoes. A few rats had burrowed in the the heels of the shoes. He removed his hospital slippers, sharply whispered "Out" to the rats and they both jumped out of the shoes and he slid them on.  
  
He picked Socrates back up and held him to his face as if to hug him. "Socrates...we're almost out...let's leave this place Socrates..." he said slowly to the little white rat with a small smile. He placed his blood crusted wallet and pocket knife into his overcoat's pockets. Walking towards the door, he opened it. A cold breeze blew against his face. The hundreds of rats still followed. Looking back at the swarm of rats a look of melancholic dread formed on his face. "I...I can't take you with me. I'm sorry. You have a home here." This made the lot of them angry. Taking a small glance at the registration table he saw a large rat. It looked somewhat like ben. Looking into its angry small black beady eyes he gasped. The large rat had a look of revenge. "Ben!" he hesitated to say, "I...I killed you." he said in a panic. He hurried and ran out the door, tightly closing it behind him. Placing his ear to the door he could hear them dispersing. Sliding his arm against the door breathing heavily, his blood smeared on the door's surface. Where the rats were going, he didn't know. He stood outside the hospital door. The sound of sirens were coming from down the street. They came closer. Willard's panic grew and he ran behind a cement wall in hiding.   
  
He watched as the police cars surrounded the building. Red and blue lights flickered against the cold grey hospital walls. Car doors slammed and they began talking. "Do you know where the body is?" one cop asked. "No, this is a big hospital. Let's hope no one else was killed," another officer replied. Standing in front of the hospital's entrance they noticed the blood on the door. Looking around to see if anyone was there the investigator pointed to another policeman and whispered, "You, stay here. There could be more happening here than we expected." The investigator and the other cops entered the hospital door and they jumped as two large brown rats ran out the door. Once the policeman had disappeared into the dark hospital the cop who stood to look out turned around to light a cigarette and investigate the blood on the door once more. While the cop's back was turned Willard came out of hiding. Placing Socrates safely in his coat pocket he slowly walked down the street towards the city subway.   
  
He was free. He knew where he would go. He was going home. Willard and Socrates were finally going home. What distressed him most was the fact Ben...had returned. 


	8. Almost Home

"Chapter 8 - Almost Home "  
  
Walking down the cold dark street Willard kept a close look out for more police. With his black hair and long black overcoat it was hard to notice him at all. Unexpectedly a police vehicle sped down the street. It's loud siren was deafening. He slowed his walk being sure not to look in the direction of the police vehical's headlights. The red and blue lights flickered off the trees. The car was speeding too fast to have noticed him. He took a deep breath and looked back into the direction they were heading. Bellevue.  
  
As Willard was making his way down towards the New York's subway station the New York City Police were investigating the hospital. Everything was a shambles. Wooden chairs in the waiting area were nibbled into shreds. "Here's the light switch!" an investigator tried flipping the lights on. Darkness continued to fill the eerie hospital hallways. Looking to the ceiling they noticed wires were dangling. The sound of gnawing echoed down the labyringth of hallways. Rats were in the ceiling. Patients in their rooms screamed and banged against their doors. "Let's just stay together," one policeman whispered to the rest. They were alarmed when they saw a group of rats chewing on a nearby chair. "Look how large they are," a policeman went on, "We need to evacuate the hospital." "Which patients should we release first?" another cop asked. "The less dangerous ones of course. They usually keep the more threatening patients on the lower levels," the investigator stated. "First we need to find where they keep the keys to the patient's rooms," he continued.  
  
While the police were searching through the labyrinth of hallways Dr. Long, Gary, and Roy stood locked away in a cell room. "Why did you shoot him?" Gary asked the Roy who was still holding the gun. He stared at him blankly. Gary rolled his eyes and grabbed the gun from Roy. "That's what I get for hiring idiots. Remind me to fire you when we get out of here," he snapped at the man. "Yes sir," the man sighed. "Shooting him didn't help at all. Just made things worse. No telling who else he's after. He's delirious..." Dr. Long stated while staring at a vent on the ceiling. "Do you have any clue where he could be heading?" Gary asked. She replied blankly, "Yes, back to his home."   
  
The police continued their way down the catacomb-like hallways. Listening closely to the patients banging against their doors. They could distinguishly hear a noise coming from a nearby room. "Help! We're in here! I hear you out there!" the doctor screamed through the door. "That doesn't sound like a patient," they looked through the bullet proof glass window atop the door. "How did they get in there?" one policeman asked another. "I can't find the key to this room. That's the only number room without a key hanging here." another policeman said while searching up and down a board which contained hundreds of keys and numbers written above them. "We'll have to call the fire department to free them. I'll stay here. The rest of you span out and free the patients. We'll have them all transported to another hospital. Wait to free the ones kept on the lower level. We'll need a swat team to transport them to a prison." the investigator pulled on his walky-talky and phoned for back-up.   
  
Each man grabbed keys in a select order and began to free the patients on the main floor. This was a challenge. Some patients refused to move. Fifteen minutes later they had freed half the patients. They waited for back-up to help with the rest who refused to leave their rooms.  
  
While the hospital was slowly being evacuated, Willard had made his way down a street lined with fancy houses. This street looked familiar to him. The freshly rained on streets and the darkness of the night gave it the same feel as when he had first set foot there. Walking by a house with a For Sale sign in the front he stopped. A police ribbon hung in front of the driveway door. He slowly walked closer to the house and heard crying. Afraid someone may see him out their window he backed up against the cold wet walls of the house. Sliding himself against the house he slowly walked up to the window. Glancing in he saw a woman crying. "We can't keep the house..." he heard her talking to another woman. "Wasn't there anything left over after Mr. Martin's death?" this voice sounded too familiar. It was Katherine. He backed away from the window in disillusion. "Katherine..." he whispered. "Shhh...." Katherine continued, "Do you hear that? Outside." The curious woman stood up and walked close to the window. Hearing what Katherine had just said he ran from the house. Katherine opened the window and glanced outside. She could barely see him as he ran away. Recognizing the way he ran, the way the overcoat hung on his shoulders, and his shiny black hair she yelled in confusion, "Willard?" He continued running out of sight. Katherine, thinking it couldn't have been him, closed the window. Back inside the house Katherine sat back down beside the other woman. "What was it?" she asked her. "Oh...It was nothing..." Katherine responded looking at the window.   
  
Willard was running so fast he didnt realize where he had gone. He was surprised when he noticed the New York's subway station sign hanging above the street he had stopped. Looking for the ticket master he slowly made his way through the train station. He walked towards the attendant. People stared and whispered at the sight of his pale face and nervous look. Staring at the ground, he made sure not to look into anyones direction. He slowly walked up to the attendant, gently holding his arm. It hurt excruciatingly. The bullet hadn't hit him straight on. The gash was more like a deep scratch stinging as the blood protruded from it. The tall blonde haired attendant observed Willard's actions. "Are you alright?" he asked Willard hesitantly. Willard slowly looked up apprehensively. "I..." he stared back down at the ground, "..uh..c..could I have a...uh...ticket to downtown New York...please," he said timidly. "That will be five dollars seventy five cents," the attendant told him.  
  
"I..I have that," he said slowly now searching his pockets for his wallet. He pulled out two five dollar bills from his blood crusted wallet and slipped it under the little slit of the bullet proof window with his shaky hand. This action revealed his hospital bracelet. Blood from the gash in his arm slowly dripped down his hand. The only words the attendant could make out from the bracelet were "Bellevue" Thinking that maybe he had just been released from Bellevue the attendant handed him his ticket and took his money. "Are you sure your ok? You don't look so good," the attendant looked at him. Willard raised his head up reluctantly, forcing a small smile upon his face. "T...thank you" he said slowly and walked away. "Don't you want your change sir?!" the attendant yelled. The train had arrived and Willard was already walking aboard. "Whoah..." the attendant whispered and watched as a small group of rats slipped through the doors of the train right behind Willard. As the train left the attendant turned around and picked up the phone.  
  
Once aboard the subway train, he looked around for a dark corner to sit by himself with Socrates. As he walked down the now moving train a little girl of about seven, sitting next to her mother looked at Willard. "Mommy, what's wrong with that man?" she asked her mother, pulling on her sleeve, who was busy reading a book. Her mother looked up and watched as Willard found a corner to sit. "He's sad honey. Just eat your cookie," she patted her little girl on the head and went back to her book. The little girl looked from her cookie to Willard. She jumped out of her seat next to her mother with cookie in hand. "Are you hungry?" she walked up to him and asked. This suprised him and he jumped. "I.." he began to say. The little girl's mother grabbed her and held her in her arms. "But I wanted to give the man my cookie," the little girl said sweetly. "Alright, we'll just set it here for him ok?" her mother took the cookie and layed it on the seat next to him. The train stopped and the mother and daughter began to leave. He slowly picked up the cookie and hesitantly yelled, "T..thank you!" to the little girl and her mother. They smiled and walked out the door.  
  
The train began to move again and he held the cookie in his hand. Starving, he broke it in half and consumed it in two bites. He was about to eat the other half and remembered Socrates was in his pocket. Breaking a small peice from the cookie, he slowly pulled the little white rat out of his pocket. Socrates seemed to be moving more than he was a few hours ago. "Socrates...food." he whispered to the rat. Little Socrates took the small crumbs and slowly ate them. Busy feeding the little white rat what he had left of the cookie; he listened as he heard something familiar. The sound of small feet scurrying through the train. Their small feet scratched upon the metal floor. He placed Socrates back in his pocket. Before he heard anything else the train stopped. "Down Town New York!" he heard one of the train attendants yell. Willard nervously stood up from his seat and slowly walked out the train's door.   
  
The closer he came to home the happier he became. 


	9. Home At Last

"Chapter Nine - Home At Last"  
  
He walked down the dark street. People stared but he didn't care. Pulling Socrates out of his pocket he whispered, "Socrates...we're almost home..." with a smile. Strangers commented on his odd behavior. "Who's he talking to?" a lady wearing a long red jacket told another woman in a short green shirt. "Don't ask me. I think they should put all these bums away," the woman in the green shirt rudely replied. Willard heard their talk and turned around and stared back in their direction. They saw this and became uneasy. "What are you staring at?" the woman in green gawked. He gave them a sharp stare for the longest time. The girls were frightened. "Come on, lets go..." the woman in red pulled on the woman in green's arm. "Yeah..." she replied and they both walked away. He turned back around in the direction he was going with a look of satifaction on his face. His satisfaction quickly turned into anger when he saw a large rat running towards the road in which his house was located. "Ben!" he yelled and began to run.  
  
Quickly stopping when he arrived at the foot of the gate leading to his house he almost tripped but caught his balance. Yellow and black police tape covered the gate. "Home." he smiled. Ripping the police tape off he opened the gate and walked up the steps. Now standing on the porch, he pulled the police tape off from around the door. There were boards nailed to the door. He pulled them off with all the strength he had. His arm continued to bleed; dripping down his arm. Opening the door, he walked inside and closed the door behind him. Willard was home.  
  
__________  
  
Dr. Long yelled from inside the cell room. "Can't you get us out?!" she screamed while banging on the door. "Help is coming lady. We have to wait till the fire department gets here. The key to this door is missing," he yelled back at her. She turned around and sat beside Roy on the hospital bed. "Listen..." he told her. He got up and placed his ear to the walls. "It's the rats. Their everywhere," he whispered. The doctor looked up at a vent at the top of the wall. "We have to cover that up," she got up on a chair and looked through the vent. "If we cover it up, we won't have much of an air supply," Gary proclaimed. She waved her arm and whispered, "Look at this..." She moved from the chair and let the captian take a look. "Oh my God..." he exclaimed. "Yeah, we have to get out of here. Quick," she replied to his cry. They all began hitting against the door screaming.  
  
Slowly more rats crawled through the vent. They gnawed at the bars which covered the air hole. The covering began to rattle. All in the room gathered at the door looking up at the vent. "Get out your guns, we may need them..." Gary said slowly as more rats appeared. The rats were coming. Coming for them.  
  
__________  
  
At home, Willard was happy. Entering the eerie house. He stopped and looked around. Everything was the way he left it. The rat's damage was extensive but didn't bother Willard. He walked up the large, nibbled by rats, staircase with Socrates in hand. Once upstairs he pushed aside Scully's dead skeleton from the middle of the walkway. Walking by his mother's room he could faintly hear her cry. "Willard! What are you doing?" he listened. The sound was drowned out when Socrates began to squeal. He was moving better each hour that passed. The small rat crawled out of his hands and up his arm to sit on his shoulder. Willard smiled at the fact Socrates was getting better. They both entered the small bathroom where he removed Socrates from a rat trap. Closing the door he placed Socrates on the sink. Amazingly the water was still working. How could this be? Even the light worked. "Huh," he smiled and ran some bath water.  
  
While the water was running, he took Socrates and walked into his bedroom. Nothing was touched. The rats didn't seem to have entered his room at all. All that was left from that dreadful night was the large hole in which Ben nibbled in his closet. He covered the hole with a large suitcase. Walking towards his dresser Socrates followed. He opened it grabbing a pair of pajamas and layed them on his bed. Acting as if nothing had happened the past few weeks he continued this routine. Him and Socrates made their way back to the bath. Once there, he removed the overcoat revealing his bloody arm. Slowly he rolled his hospital uniform sleeve up. He grabbed a washcloth, wet it and placed it over the wound. It stung but he made no sound. Walking to the bathroom door he slowly closed it.   
  
__________  
  
The Fire Department had finally made their way to Bellevue. Crowds of people stood outside the large hospital. Just after the Fire Department a Swat Team arrived with ambulances close behind. Countless patients waited outside the towering hospital walls. Once inside, the firemen found their way towards the locked room carrying large bolt cutters.  
  
"Finally. What took you guys so long? They've been locked in there for hours," the investigator proclaimed. They ignored him and began to cut the lock open. Inside the room Dr. Long, Roy, and Gary panicked as the small bars holding the rats back, popped open. Rats came falling in twenty to thirty at a time. They all turned around and banged on the door harder, screaming for their lives. Gary held his gun and pointed it at the large rats and fired. "Hurry up!" she yelled as the bullet ricocheted off the wall and hit Roy. He dropped the gun and backed away. His jaw dropped at what he had just done. The officer fell to the floor from the impact of the bullet. Slowly blood soaked his shirt. The security captian had shot him in the heart. Blood dripped from the Gary's mouth. He layed there dying and watched as rats crawled over his body and began to feed. Raising his hand at Gary and he said one last word, "H..e...l...p..."   
  
Finally the door was broken open. Rats poured out of the room. Firemen grabbed the doctor and they all ran towards the hospital's exit. The hungry rats followed close behind. They stopped when they heard the screams of people echoing down the labyrinth of halls, coming from the lower levels. "We need to save them!" Dr. Long screamed in terror. The firemen pushed her out the door along with everyone else. Now outside the doctor was bombarded with reporters. "What happened here tonight Doctor?" one asked her. She just wanted to be left alone. Tears running down her face she was grabbed by a police officer and placed into an NYPD van. Firemen grabbed flame torches and entered the hospital. An eerie sound echoed from the dark hospital.   
  
__________  
  
Back at the Stiles estate, Willard was clean and very tired. Grabbing the little white rat, he held him up to his face and whispered, "Socrates...let's go to bed..." he smiled and they entered his room. Slipping under his dusty covers Socrates crawled up the blanket with him. Exhausted from the long night he quickly fell asleep with the little white rat snuggled up his sleeve. They were finally home. Home at last. 


	10. Willard Is Back

"Chapter Ten - Willard Is Back "  
  
A harrowing feeling woke Willard from his sleep. He knew something was wrong. Firemen slowly scorched each rat that came within eye sight. With the swat team close behind they walked down the dark labyrinth of hallways towards the lower levels where the dangerous patients were being kept. Dead, scorched rat carcasses scattered the floors of the hospital. Few escaped the terror.   
  
Now in the lower levels, the swat team slowly unleashed the patients from their captivity. One by one the swat team released them into the dark hallways. Blood curdling screams mirrored the walls of the hallways which more resembled a catacomb meant to keep people who others wish to forget. Throughout this terror, patients' unleashed their wrath upon the swat team and firemen who unlocked their small dark cave-like cells. The swat team gained control of most of them; less than half of them killed each other. Half the patients made it out alive. Some couldn't be saved. They were eaten alive by the rats.  
  
"Do you know who did this?" Dr. Long was asked. She gazed out of the van window in awe at what was occurring. She couldn't bring herself to say a word. Bodies of countless patients were being carried out of the dark hospital. Patients which she treated. She had treated Willard....how could this happen? she thought. They were all layed in a row below the shadow of the insitutions walls. The injured cried in terror.   
  
Morning came and dark rain clowds filled the sky. Willard was already awake and dressed in a dusty suit belonging to his long dead father. He walked to the bathroom for some water. No water came out. A large gurgling noise echoed throughout the house. The lights refused to luminate the dark rooms. Everything was turned off. Grabbing Socrates he slowly walked towards his father's study. Closing his eyes he opened the door. Everything was torn apart. Glass scattered the floor from fallen pictures. Memories from the last night he had entered the room flashed before him. He placed his hands upon his head hoping it would go away. The innumerable rats attempting to kill him. But they didn't succeed...he was still here. Socrates crawled up his arm upon his shoulder and squeaked. This caught his attention and he lowered his hands, holding Socrates. He remembered what he had come into the room for. Looking on the floor he picked up two broken picture frames. One of his father, the other of his mother. Quickly, he left the room.   
  
Walking down the large staircase he heard a noise. A car door slam. Slowly he sprinted towards the window and looked outside. A white van with the words "New York Electrical" drove away from the front of the house. He took a deep breath, glad that it hadn't been someone else.  
  
"Lady, you have to tell us who did this," Dr. Long was told. Still overwhelmed from the actions of the past night she finally brought herself to say his name, "Willard Stiles." "We'll start a statewide search. He can't have gone far. Do you have any idea where he could have gone?" Dr. Long was interrogated. "Yes, back home," she continued staring out the window in disbelief. "Can you describe him?" she was asked. "Pale...very pale. Black hair...he was shot in the arm by one of the security men... Tall, blue eyes, he's very disturbed. I really should come with you when you find him," she said still staring outside. Dr. Long listened as the policeman grabbed his walky talky and began to phone the information in. She was quickly taken from the van into another police vehicle . Dr. Long was being taken to Willard's house and she didn't know what she would find when she got there.  
  
Placing the pictures of his mother and father in his torn and slightly nibbled up breifcase he opened the front door and walked down the front steps. He was going to complete some unfinished business. Willard was back. 


	11. Unfinished Business

"Chapter Eleven - Unfinished Business"  
  
It still read in rusty letters "Stiles Manufacturing" with new words on top baring the name "Martin". Giving a sharp look specifically at the name Martin he opened the gate and walked inside. Police caution tape covered the elevator. Dried blood still crusted the metal floor. Willard walked inside, tearing the tape off. The elevator raised from the main floor.  
  
"It looks like he's been here," Dr. Long observed the torn police tape laying on the cement sidewalk outside the Stiles Estate. "It could have just been some kids playing around," one of the cops commented. "We won't know until we go in there. Lady, you stay here incase he is in there and tries to attempt anything," the lead police officer told Dr. Long and pointed to another officer to stay with her. The group of cops walked up the cement stairs into the dark house. Dr. Long waited.  
  
Willard recollected what he had done to Mr. Martin while standing on top of the blood stained floor.. He smiled all the while. "We got him back Socrates. He'll never hurt you again..." he slowly whispered to the little white rat standing on his shoulder. Walking down the hallway he felt confident in what he was about to do. Finally at the door, which held the office where he had countless times been humiliated, he tried opening it. It was locked. He became impatient. The lock was old and rusted. It wiggled and schreeched when you pulled on it. He placed his brief case on the floor and backed away a few inchs from the door. Quickly he kicked the door handle with all the strength he had. Luckily it broke open.   
  
The floor screeched as the police entered the old dark house. "Let's look upstairs first," one of the cops told the others. Cautiously holding their guns in front of them they made their way up the large staircase. Looking through the rooms they noticed things had been moved about. They entered the bathroom. Willard's hospital bracelet had been torn in half and layed upon his bloody uniform in a small garbage can sitting in the corner of the bathroom. "He's definitly been here," a cop pulled the bracelet out of the basket. "He could still be here. Keep a good look out. Let's check the basement."  
  
The police made their way to the kichen. "Shhh...listen...down there," one of the cops whispered and pointed to the basement door. Noise came echoing from the basement. Cautiously he opened the door and began to walk down the dark stairs. Holding a small flashlight they made their way down the dark steps. "Mr. Stiles!" one of the cops yelled. "Do you feel that around your feet?" a cop holding a gun whispered to the others. "Yeah..." one replied. He slowly moved the flashlight towards the ground. "Their rats! Millions of them!" they all screamed. Attempting to escape they tried running back up the stairs. The door shut with impact by a group of rats pushing at the bottom of it. They were surrounded.  
  
Entering the office brought bad memories to the surface. He remembered how he used to cower down at the presents of his boss, Mr. Martin, who had stolen the business from his father. How he made a fool of him in front of everyone. How he made him hate himself. How he killed Socrates. But now, it has all been changed. Socrates was back. Willard would not let that happen again. He was going to make sure of that. No one will ever hurt him again...  
  
He walked into the main office where he first confronted Mr. Martin. Papers scattered the floor. His picture stating the words "Prudent Agression" was slanted sideway on the wall. Lowering his arm, Socrates crawled onto a chair close by. He stared at the things still standing on Mr. Martin's desk. Pictures of his family, a block of ceramic cheese, a computer, and his name which had been placed exactly in the middle of the desks front. With anger he lifted his arm and pushed everything off the desk causing them to shatter into peices onto the floor. He took deep breaths and held his arm which had still caused him great pain. Somewhat composing himself he sat in the chair under the desk. Grabbing his black bag he opened it pulling out his fathers picture. Standing it on the desk he began to cry. "No one...will ever steal this company from you again...."   
  
He wiped his face and Socrates crawled onto Willard's shoulder. Slightly shaken, he stood up and pulled something small and metal out of his bag. He pulled the picture stating the words "Prudent Agression" off the wall. Lifting the top of the metal object he lit a flame and placed it at the edge of the worded picture. Slowly he placed the picture back onto the wall. Everything around it began to catch on fire. Willard, with Socrates still standing on his shoulder, grabbed his bag and stood back watching the flames consume the room. Smoke devoured the space.   
  
Socrates crawled down his shoulder into his pocket. He began to cough and knew it was time to leave. Looking back he watched as the fire reached the desk now slowly burning his father's picture. Quickly he ran down the hall into the elevator. As the elevator slowly moved down towards the main level the smoke followed. Finally he made it to the exit. He ran through the parking lot towards the front of the building. Exiting the gate he stood back in awe at what was happening to the old building. Thunder echoed through the atmosphere and lightning lit the dark sky. Rain began to pour on the cold damp cement.   
  
"Hey! What's going on over there?!" a man standing across the street yelled. Suddenly lightning hit the words on top of the gate. The impact caused the metal sign of "Martin" to break and fall to the ground. Left on the gate was "Stiles Manufacturing". Willard stood there in satisfaction. The fire had now consumed the whole building. He pulled Socrates out of his pocket and held him in the rain. "Let's go see mom..." he whispered to the small white rat. Now hearing the sound of sirens he placed Socrates back into his pocket and ran.  
  
Dr. Long still waited outside the house for the other policemen's return. Listening to the cop's walky talky inside the car she heard the name "Stiles" and jumped. "Are they talking about the Stiles Manufacturing building?" Dr. Long exclaimed. "Yeah, it's caught on fire," the policewoman sitting in the car with her replied. "Can you take me there?" she yelled ecstatically at the cop. "Fine, just let me call in to the guys we're leaving." the policewoman attempted to contact the others inside the house but recieved no answer. "That's odd..." she said concerned. "Hurry, we don't have much time!" Dr. Long exclaimed. "Alright, I'm sure their fine in there..." the policewoman started up the car and they were on their way.  
  
Willard stopped running once he found the cemetery in which his mother had been buried. He walked up to her grave stone with rain pouring on his head. He sat down his black bag and opened it grabbing his mother's broken picture. Placing it at the foot of the gravestone he began to cry while rain drops rolled down his cheeks. "Mom...we're back to see you," he pulled Socrates out of his pocket and placed atop her grave stone. He stood there for awhile then grabbed Socrates placing him back into his pocket. Turning around he saw police car lights coming down the street. A light flashed in his direction and he bent down out of their view. "Let's go Socrates...By mom...." he whispered and slowly walked off trying not to gather attention. 


	12. Ashes

"Chapter Twelve - Ashes"  
  
"Someone has been here..." Willard thought to himself while walking through the open gate. Slowly he walked inside. A rattling noise echoed throughout the house. Hanging his wet overcoat near the front door he locked the door behind him and followed the sound. Looking around nervously he walked towards the kitchen. The noise became louder as he entered the torn up room. Imprints were left on the dusty floor. He knew someone had been there. Following the tracks to the basement door, he stopped and placed his ear to the door to listen. He knew what was down there and he wasn't ready to face it.   
  
Dr. Long had made it to Stile Manufacturing. "You think the escaped lunatic did this?" Dr. Long was asked. "Yes, were there any witnesses?" she asked the policewoman. "I'll find out..." the policewoman walked away. A few minutes passed and she returned. "They say a man with dark hair...pale face...long black overcoat...carrying an old black brief case ran away from the building an hour ago. Is that him?" the policewoman asked. "Yes...thats him." Dr. Long continued,"Did they see which way he went?" "Yeah," the woman replied and pointed the direction where he was seen running. "Lets go..." Dr. Long said.  
  
"Are you sure he would have come here?" the woman asked Dr. Long while looking around at the countless graves that lay behind the black gate. "Follow me." she replied and they walked through the graveyard gates. "See? Look at that." Dr. Long bent over and picked up the broken picture of Willard's mother. "The only other place he could have gone now is back home..."   
  
Willard backed away from the kitchen and walked out its door. "Dad..." he noticed his father's urn was still in place below his large portrait. Reaching for his father's urn he rubbed the dust that had gathered on the plaque off. Socrates ran out of his pocket and hid in the other room. "Socrates...." he said and walked away from the urn after the scared little rat. He knew why Socrates did not want to go near the urn. Curious, he walked back towards the urn. Grabbing the heavy vase he placed it on a nearby table. Socrates stood watching in the next room as Willard raised the urn's covering. Dust from his father's dead body were the only contents of the large urn. Willard stood back in awe staring from the urn back to Socrates. The little white rat scurried towards the kitchen. He ran after him, leaving his fathers ashes open on the table.  
  
Running into the kitchen he watched as Socrates slid under the basement door. Willard stopped where he was and stood still. Closing his eyes in fear, he opened the door leading to the basement. Looking for a flashlight, he found one laying on the floor. By the feel of the flashlight, he knew it wasn't his. Clicking it on he made his way down the staircase. "Socrates..." he whispered. He heard something scurry across the floor running towards him. It was only Socrates. Willard knelt down and picked him up, placing him on his shoulder.   
  
Walking further into the basement he could hear something slushy on the floor as he walked. Looking up he pulled the string to a single lightbulb which hung from the ceiling. The light dimly illuminated the space. Slowly he looked down. Covering his mouth with his hands he backed away towards the staircase. What scattered the floor was blood and human tissue. Gnawed on bones seemed to swim in the pool of freshy poured blood. He quickly ran up the stairs out the basement door. Closing the door behind him, he placed his back to the door. "Ben..." he whispered angrily. Socrates ran off his shoulder into the next room. Blood from the little white rat's paws left marks on the shoulder of his old black suit. Willard ran after him once again with his shoes tracking blood from the basement.  
  
He chased Socrates to about the bottom of the large staircase. Stopping where he was; he could hear commotion coming from his front door. "Stop!" he heard a woman yell. "There's someone in there!" he now knew it was Dr. Long. Letting Socrates crawl upon his shoulder he stood still at the foot of the staircase with his back towards the wall. "Lady, this house is scheduled for demolishment today." a man with a rugged voice told Dr. Long. "Not anymore," the policewoman ran up to the front door of the house. "This house is under our watch. I'm sure they can corroborate," the policewoman pointed down the street where more police cars were driving towards the house. Police began to surround the Stiles Estate.  
  
"What could we do...what could we do...what could we do...what could we do..." Willard stood there looking around for anything to help him. Glancing at the table where he had left his father's urn, his jaw dropped. A large gray rat stood beside the urn which had been tipped over. His father was now scattered around the floor and the table's top. The rat moved foward further from the urn's side and stopped. "Ben!" he yelled in a panic. This yell caught the attention of the people standing outside his door.  
  
They began to knock on the locked door. "Mr. Stiles! Come out slowly with your hands up!" he heard a policeman yell. "Who's in there?" asked the man with the rugged voice. "Don't you read the papers? That's Willard Stiles. He escaped from Bellevue last night. Almost killed half the people there," a policeman replied to the man's question. "He isn't going to come out like that!" Dr. Long pushed aside the policeman and began to talk. "Mr. Stiles! It's Dr. Long. I'm only here to help you. Just unlock the door so I can!" Placing his hands upon his now dried head he looked from the door back to Ben; staring back at him with his vengeful gaze. He was trapped. 


	13. Willard's End

"Chapter 13 - Willard's End"  
  
He was trapped. With no way of getting out. Willard looked up the staircase being sure not to move. Socrates ran off Willard's shoulder up the large staircase. He ran after the little white rat knowing Socrates would help him. He made it up the stairs and watched as the little white rat ran into his father's study. Willard followed. Looking back, Ben was following him. Entering the room, Socrates ran up the spiral staircase. Staring down at Willard the little rat had a look in it's small red beady eyes. Willard followed.  
  
The gray atmosphere slowly turned black and it became night. Rain continued to fall from the sad sky. "I heard footsteps," Dr. Long continued,"We need to get inside!" The policeman exchanged a few words and decided to break the bars off one of the windows. Dr. Long stood back and stared at the many windows of the house. Returning with sharp saw's the police began to cut into the thick black bars which covered one of the many barred windows.  
  
Willard stopped once at the spiral staircases top. Ben followed quickly behind. It stopped and stared at Socrates. They stared at each other as Willard watched. "Ben!" he yelled. The large gray rat's eyes seemed to peirce through Socrates with extreme anger. Socrates glared back protectively standing in front of Willard. He backed away closer to the tinted yellow window. Willard searched around for anything...anything to prevent Ben from hurting Socrates...and himself as well.  
  
Dr. Long looked up and noticed his shadow in the window. "Look! He's up there!" she pointed at the tinted yellow window. "We're almost in lady!" a policeman yelled back at her. She knew...if Willard attempted anything...it would cost her, her job.  
  
The sound of an army marched up the large staircase. Millions of gray, black, and brown rats of all sizes ran in what appeared to be a reverse waterfall up the stairs towards the spiral staircase. Listening to this the police stopped sawing. "Listen to that..." one of the cops looked through the window,"We don't want to go in there. That man's a goner." Dr. Long continued to stare at the window in which Willard was standing. "I'll go in there," she said determinedly. "You would risk getting eaten alive for that guy?" the policewoman asked her. Dr. Long stared from the woman to the window with an angry look,"No, not for him. For me," she said coldly.  
  
The many rats began to fill the room just as the first time Willard had been put in this situation. Ben and Socrates still stared at each other with great anger. Everyone outside stood back and watched in anticipation at the shadow in the window atop the large house. The rain stopped   
  
Ben gave one last look at Socrates and jumped. Willard quickly grabbed Socrates and attempted to kick Ben out of the way. Looking down at all the rats, he panicked. Looking from the rats to the window he had only one way to go. Still holding Socrates he jumped through the yellow tinted window. Hitting the ground with impact he still held Socrates in a tight embrace. He slowly lost strength and his body went limp, releasing Socrates from his grip.   
  
Dr. Long grabbed Socrates and held him in her hands. He bit her hand, jumped out of her grasp, and ran towards the house full of numerable rats. "Is he still alive?" Dr. Long was asked. She held her hand for a moment then knelt down beside Willard's body and tried to find a pulse. Standing up with a smile she said,"Yes, he's still alive." An ambulance quickly arrived and they placed his unconcious body onto a gurny. "Will he ever come out of it?" Dr. Long was asked. She watched as they carried him into the ambulance. "No" she said blankly and entered the ambulance with Willard. Before closing the ambulance door the little white rat quickly ran inside and hid under a box of syringes.  
  
This was the end for Willard. Socrates remained by his side.  
  
-Fin-  
  
______________________  
  
Oh! You think thats the end do you? Well your wrong! Wrong indeed! Read further. I dare you. -Now to end this aweful fan fic of mine. I probably won't be writing another one again. I've decided my writing skills suck too much. Well enjoy the rest!-  
  
______________________  
  
Ten months passed without any sign of Willard's recovery. Dr. Long remained caring for him. She was happy he had not died...otherwise she would be out of a job. She took great pleasure in watching over him. Not letting anyone else near him. She seemed to grow attached. Socrates stayed close to Willard's side. Smart enough as to stay away from Dr. Long as much as he could.  
  
The night was as dark as the night Willard had jumped to his coma. Dr. Long entered the room to check his IV as usual. Clicking the light on brightened the dim room. What sat upon Willard's body surprised her. Socrates glared at the doctor with anger. She moved closer towards the rat. She reached over Willard's body to grab Socrates. Before she could grasp the little rat in her hands. Willard opened his eyes. 


End file.
